


Belated

by shotofvanilla



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, New Years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 03:05:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shotofvanilla/pseuds/shotofvanilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel doesn't really care for ringing in the New Year. After all, he still has to come into work at the coffee shop. Luckily, one Dean Winchester, who happens to be a fairly frequent regular there, might help in changing his opinion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Belated

**Author's Note:**

> Just a dumb little thing to celebrate the new year. Happy New Years! I hope 2014 treats you well. :)

Truthfully, Cas doesn’t really care for New Year’s, eve or otherwise. To him, it’s just another passing day, albeit with louder parties and drunker people. He even has to work on both days because the teeming passes of the city still need their coffee.

So he opens the shop at 5:30 A.M. on the gray-eyed morning of January 1st, like he always does. He immediately turns on the espresso machines and starts brewing the ice tea and drip coffee, filling the room with a familiar bittersweet smell. As the first bleary eyed customers stumble through the door, those unlucky businessmen and women who still have to turn up at work, he puts the pastries in the warming oven, adding the scent of caramelizing sugar and baking crust to the air. He smiles and makes small talk over the register with the regulars, mostly bemoaning having to work on a holiday. Cas serves them their coffee, most of which has an extra shot or two of espresso, with a sympathetic smile.

After that, his shift starts to pick up, as sleepy tourists and hungover students wearing dark sunglasses pour in through the doors. Once Charlie comes in at 6:15 to man the register, his actions turn into a flurry of routine motions behind the machines: pulling espresso shots, steaming milk, restocking the pastry display, stirring powder and sugar and syrups, calling out drink orders. He smiles politely at customers, ignores the impatient ones who hover, hawk-like, around the bar, and laughs at Charlie’s stories of her New Year’s Eve antics from the night before.

He’s working mindlessly for an hour or so, mixing and serving drink after drink, when he notices that down the line is a drink simply marked “Dean” in Charlie’s typical sprawl. She hasn’t ticked off what the drink order is, and Cas suspects that’s because she knows he has Dean’s order memorized already.

Dean’s a regular, more regular than some, coming in at 7:45 every day like clockwork. He orders a regular-sized Americano, strong and simple enough to make, but Cas takes care every time to make sure it’s the best drink he’s ever made.

So he cheats a little and starts making multiple drinks at once—he’s technically not supposed to, but his drinks are still good quality and no one’s complained yet—because he wants extra time to make Dean’s. He makes sure to pull the espresso shot perfectly, careful not to pull it too early and leave it weak or too late and make it bitter. The cup fills with rich, dark liquid when he pours the hot water in and he breathes it in for a moment before fitting the cap over the drink.

He places the drink on the counter, ready to call out Dean’s name when he’s suddenly confronted with the very man, leaning casually against the drink counter.

This is different. Usually, Dean stands closer to the back, not so far away that he doesn’t hear his drink order, but not so close to the front of the crowd either. Cas had settled for admiring Dean from afar, and now he’s taken aback by the full force of green eyes and a charming grin.

After stuttering over the name, he manages to push the cup in Dean’s direction. “Your drink.”

Dean’s smile grows. “Why don’t you wear a nametag?” he asks instead of picking up his cup and leaving like he always does.

Cas looks down at his apron for a second and shrugs, moving onto the next drink in order to ignore the redness he knows is climbing to his cheeks. “I lost it a while ago, never got it replaced. No one’s said anything about it.” He stays so focused on the drink that he fails to notice Dean’s own nervous blush.

When Cas finishes the next drink and looks up to call it out, Dean is still standing there by the counter, surprisingly. He should be long gone by now, and Cas should be quietly sighing before returning to his job.

A woman in a pink blazer with perfectly blown out hair totters over on high black heels to collect her drink. Once she’s gone Dean says, rubbing the back of his neck a little, “Look, the thing with the nametag…I was trying to be all cool about asking for your name. I guess it wasn’t really as smooth as I was hoping.”

 _Oh._  Cas’ hands still from where their fixing the lid over the next drink. “Castiel.” He can’t help but smile a little, ducking his head toward the ground.

"Castiel," Dean says slowly, testing the name out. "So if someone were to make you a drink, what would it be?"

Cas looks up again, forehead creasing as he stares at Dean in confusion. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Charlie surreptitiously sneaking glances at him as she comes over to help out with the backlog of drink orders he’s let pile up.

There’s an awkward silence between the two of them before Dean lets out an embarrassed chuckle. “Really not my day today,” he mutters, looking down and scuffing his toe against the floor. It takes him a moment to glance up at Castiel again. “My brother told me I should …’try new things,’ or ‘take risks,’ or whatever with the new year, and I don’t really subscribe to the whole idea of resolutions but I figured…look, I’m trying to ask you out, okay?”

And there’s another  _oh_  moment again and before he really knows what he’s doing, Cas is reaching out and plucking the Americano from Dean’s hand while reaching for the Sharpie he always keeps in his pocket.

"I’m free this Friday," he says, meeting Dean’s eye evenly as he pushes the cup back across the counter. The cup that now bears seven digits in his own small, careful hand. "Anywhere but a coffee shop, okay?"

Dean stares at him incredulously for a minute before letting out a delighted laugh. “Whatever you say.” He takes his drink from Cas, their fingers brushing over the cup. “I’ll see you later, barista.”

He throws in a wink as he turns and walks away, and it’s just ridiculous enough for Cas to laugh a little as well. “Happy New Year!” Dean calls out as he exits the store.

And maybe his new year kiss comes three days late, standing outside his apartment in the January chill, but Cas agrees: it’s shaping up to be a  _very_  happy new year indeed.

 


End file.
